


The Art of Being Angie

by onceuponanevilangel



Series: What Silent Love Hath Writ [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Period-Typical Homophobia, basically peggy's clueless to just about everything, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponanevilangel/pseuds/onceuponanevilangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before she could finish, Peggy tipped forward and pressed her lips lightly against Angie’s. They were soft and sticky with pie filling and Angie couldn’t help but enjoy it. </p><p>Then she remembered three very important points:<br/>1.	Both she and Peggy were a little beyond tipsy.<br/>2.	She was kissing her best friend.<br/>3.	The last time she had kissed a friend, that friend had run away to Armonk without so much as a note the very next morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Being Angie

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt was: since angie’s stepped up her game to woo peggy, she’s been getting mysterious advice. the writing’s different, but she knows a man’s writing when she see’s it. so two men are offering her advice on how to woo peggy carter. angie would be angry, but some of the advice worked, but angie martinelli doesn’ tneed anyone to tell her how to woo a woman.
> 
> 15 pages and 8k words later, this is was you get. Thanks to Ali aka ahappypup (swimmingnewsie on tumblr) for reading through the first half and convincing me it was good. Unbetaed, so any mistakes are mine.

Angie doubted there was anything she hated more than the closing shift. Everyone else—‘everyone’ being the one other waitress, the two cooks, and the boss--had already left and Angie was the one tasked with cleaning up the tables, wiping down the counters, and locking up.

 

On the bright side, the late night paid better than her usual shift and Lord knew she could use some extra cash, but when she was bent over a table, scrubbing at a dried glob of what she _really_ hoped was oatmeal, all she could think about were the million and one places she would rather be: her bed, her parent’s house, the dining room at the Griffith, Peggy’s apartment.

 

Angie was so consumed in making her mental list that she almost didn’t notice the folded napkin sticking out from underneath the dispenser. Almost. She grabbed it and unfolded it, half-hoping to find a few dollars inside. It wouldn’t be the first time a customer left a tip in a strange place.

 

But there wasn’t any money in the napkin. In fact, there was nothing but a note scrawled hastily on the inside written in blue ink. The writing was neat and elegant and probably a man’s but Angie couldn’t quite be sure. She wasn’t even sure the note was meant for her, but her natural curiosity got the better of her and she read it anyway.

 

_Miss Carter speaks quite highly of you and it seems you’ve taken an interest in her as well. I happen to know that she very much enjoys earl grey tea and strawberry rhubarb pie. You might try some of that._

Despite being the only person in the automat, Angie felt herself blush as she crumpled the note in her fist and shoved it into the pocket of her apron.

 

_Breathe, Angie. Breathe._

Maybe the note wasn’t even meant for her. Maybe there was some other Miss Carter who like earl grey tea and strawberry rhubarb pie and who had obviously caught the eye of someone who frequented the L&L.

 

And maybe Angie was the queen of England.

 

She started scrubbing the table again, but suddenly a thought popped into her mind that made her blood run cold.

 

Someone knew. They _knew._

 

Apparently Angie wasn’t nearly as subtle with her not-so-little crush on Peggy and now someone knew about it. They knew she liked girls and if that got out, Angie was done for. She swallowed hard around the lump that had risen in her throat and walked into the kitchen.

 

She tossed her dirty rag into the bucket under the sink and pulled the note out of her pocket. She held it in her hands for a moment, reading over the words, committing them to memory and half-hoping they were true. She couldn’t keep it, though. Anyone could find it and that was not a risk she was willing to take.

 

Angie turned on the grill and looked pointedly at a spot on the wall as she dropped the piece of paper onto the hot surface. It caught fire for a brief second, but soon went out leaving nothing but a small bit of ash on the cook top. Angie turned off the heat, gathered her things, and walked out of the kitchen. As she locked the door behind her, there was only one thought left in normally cluttered mind.

 

There was a not-so-little part of her that really hoped that whoever wrote that note knew what he was talking about.

 

* * *

 

 Angie’s first instinct when she got back to the Griffith that night was to go straight to Peggy’s apartment, flop down on the bed, and rant about her day. It was a routine she had slid into over the past few weeks and one that Peggy normally didn’t seem to mind, especially when Angie supplied a bottle of contraband schnapps.

 

However that night was not a normal night and something stopped Angie before she could even make it to Peggy’s door.

 

Someone _knew._

 

There was something about the very idea of facing Peggy and knowing that someone knew her feelings were a little more than friendly that made Angie’s blood run cold. Before she could think on it any further, she saw Peggy’s doorknob turning and she ducked into her own apartment before she could be seen.

 

Once safely inside, Angie pressed her ear to the door and listened as Peggy opened her door. There were no footsteps, though, which meant Peggy didn’t actually leave her room.

 

A moment later, the door closed again and Angie sank down on her bed, her head falling naturally into her hands. She had been through this enough times to know that no gal ever wanted to be friends with someone like her. Once they found out, they left without a word until a letter mailed from Armonk showed up in the mail two weeks later.

 

Angie had two choices. She could trust the mysterious, vaguely creepy note from the automat and tell

Peggy the truth, or she could suck it up and play the part she had been playing all her life.

 

Either way, she was going to need some schnapps.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning was cold and the clouds were thick and gray with the promise of yet another storm. The snow banks were already tall enough that Angie had to practically step into the street to check for traffic. She only narrowly missed getting hit by three different cars and was treated to a spray of icy water from the last one. It soaked through her stockings instantly and chilled her to the bone.

 

Her day didn’t get much better from there. The usual jerks stayed longer than they normally did and their comments were lewder, but their tips weren’t any better. By the time the lunch rush started, Angie was gripping the coffee pot hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

 

Peggy popped in around two for a sandwich, but it was still so busy that Angie didn’t even have an excuse to not talk to her. When she ran off to get another customer a refill, Peggy disappeared, but not without leaving Angie an extra three dollars, a lipstick-stained coffee mug, and a note scrawled on a small piece of lined paper.

 

_Sorry to duck out so quickly. Had to get back to the office, but I’ll hopefully see you at home tonight. Come over after your shift ends? –Peggy_

 

Angie couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face as she tucked the note into her pocket. Then she remembered that she was sort-of-not-really avoiding Peggy and that lump started to build in her throat again.

 

Before she could dwell on it, though, a man at the counter wearing a green fedora cleared his throat.

 

“Miss, you planning on getting me my refill anytime soon?”

 

Angie was jolted back to reality and she grabbed the coffee pot, her smile fading back into a neutral expression as she filled the man’s mug. At least she had something to look forward to later.

 

Or she did until the girl who was supposed to take the closing shift got sick and had to go home early. The cook couldn’t stay either and the boss had an appointment, so it fell to Angie for the second night in a row.

                                                        

She had better be making some damn good money for this.

 

It was almost ten when Angie finally finished and clocked out. She locked the door, drew the blinds, and grabbed a piece of strawberry rhubarb pie for her troubles before she set out for home.

 

There weren’t many cars out that late at night, but it was still snowing and the wind had picked up so that by the time Angie got to the Griffith, she was freezing cold and her hair was wild. Luckily, Ms. Fry was in her office and though she poked her head out to give Angie a stern look, she didn’t ask any questions.

 

Angie hurried upstairs, dropped her bag and coat in her room, and went right back out to the hallway to knock on Peggy’s door.

 

She was greeted with a quiet “Come in,” and when she opened the door, she found Peggy sitting on her bed, her back against the wall and a book on the blanket next to her. She rubbed her eyes and covered a yawn before standing up and smiling at Angie.

 

“Sorry. I must have fallen asleep. I guess you got my note then?”

 

Angie shifted her weight from one foot to the other and laced her arms in front of her chest. “Yeah, I did. What did you want to talk about?”

 

“Us.”

 

Angie felt her heart leap into her throat and she tried to will the blood flow away from her face.

 

“Well to be more specific, I wanted to make sure everything is still all right between us. You were supposed to come over after your shift last night and you seemed on edge all during breakfast this morning. It felt almost like you were trying to avoid me.”

 

Angie’s heart was still pounding so hard she could hear the blood rushing in her ears and she put her hands on her hips to stop them from shaking.

 

“What are you talking about?” she asked. She mentally congratulated herself on keeping her voice so steady. “I’m not avoiding you. I just got in real late last night and I didn’t think you’d still be awake and I didn’t sleep very well, so that’s probably why I was jumpy at breakfast.”

 

That wasn’t totally a lie. Angie had spent most of the previous night tossing and turning as her brain cooked up various scenarios in which Peggy found out about her. None of them were good and Angie still couldn’t get the image of Peggy’s red lips curling into a disgusted sneer out of her mind.

 

A half-truth was still better than a whole lie, right?

 

Peggy seemed to buy it. She made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle and wrapped one arm loosely around her torso.

 

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I just—“

 

“Don’t apologize, English,” Angie said. “It’s not like you did anything wrong.”

 

Peggy nodded. “Well, it’s late and I’m sure you’re still tired, so I’ll let you get back to your room.”

 

Angie was about to turn away, but she stopped herself.

 

“Do you like strawberry rhubarb pie?” The words were out before Angie knew what she was saying, but then Peggy smiled and Angie realized that she didn’t regret them.

 

“That sounds lovely, actually. I’ve got some bourbon stashed in my closet too. It’s not much, but maybe we could split it?”

 

“Sounds like a plan. Let me go grab the pie and I’ll be right back.”

 

Angie slipped out into the hallway and paused outside the door. She pressed her palms flat against the wall in front of her, her head falling naturally between her outstretched arms. Her entire body felt like jelly.

 

This was not good. The very thought of Peggy finding out about her made Angie want to throw up or pass out or maybe both.

 

On second thought, maybe that feeling came from the butterflies fluttering around her stomach that only seemed to appear when she was around Peggy. Angie tried really hard not to dwell on that issue, though.

 

Either way, she was into something bad.

 

She stayed in the hallway like that until she realized that Peggy was still waiting for her. Angie took a few deep breaths and walked into her room to get the pie.

 

By the time she had downed her second glass of bourbon, Angie wasn’t exactly drunk, but she was certainly feeling much better; like the weight was gone from her shoulders. Things felt easier and she and Peggy were talking and laughing as they ate the pie right out of the tin.

 

Angie was telling story after story about rude customers from the automat and Peggy’s cheeks were pink from laughter. Her dark curls had long since fallen from the perfectly-coiffed style they had been held in and they danced around Peggy’s shoulders as she tipped her head back. There was a smear of red lipstick on her chin. Or maybe it was a stain from the pie filling. Either way, Angie couldn’t stop staring at it.

 

Peggy must have noticed, because after a moment, she fell silent, her dark gaze focused on Angie.

 

Angie felt the heat rise up in her cheeks again and she forced her eyes away from Peggy’s lips.

 

“Uh, Peg, you got a little something on your—“

 

Before she could finish, Peggy tipped forward and pressed her lips lightly against Angie’s. They were soft and sticky with pie filling and Angie couldn’t help but enjoy it.

 

Then she remembered three very important points:

  1. Both she and Peggy were a little beyond tipsy.
  2. She was kissing her best friend.
  3. The last time she had kissed a friend, that friend had run away to Armonk without so much as a note the very next morning.



 

Angie wasn’t exactly eager to repeat that experience and she opened her eyes and pulled back. Peggy looked a little surprised, but Angie refused to let herself read into it. Instead she stood up and bolted out the door, muttering a quick “You can finish the pie if you want,” over her shoulder.

 

She didn’t breathe until she was safely back in her own room with the door shut behind her and a pillow over her face so no one could hear her cry.

 

* * *

 

 

Angie was most definitely not avoiding Peggy.

 

It just so happened that for a solid week after the incident, Angie started skipping breakfast in the dining room, even if it meant having to stop for something to eat on her way to work. She already knew when Peggy did her laundry and even though Peggy kept odd hours, Angie was still pretty good at keeping away from her in the hallways.

 

Okay, so maybe she _was_ avoiding Peggy a little bit.

 

Even if she was, Angie wasn’t eager to discuss what had happened between them and judging by the fact that Peggy hadn’t made any effort to actually talk to Angie at all over the past few days, she wasn’t all that willing to talk either.

 

It was the alcohol. It had to be the alcohol. There was no way on earth Peggy would ever _actually_ kiss her. Angie had been down that road more times than she cared to count and if avoiding the situation could stave off the heartache for a little while longer, then so be it.

 

She managed to keep it that way until the next Friday. A full week had passed since the kiss and Angie had once again pulled the night shift.

 

Well more like she had volunteered to take it. It gave her a reasonable excuse to stay away from the Griffith for a little while longer and she could do with a little extra money. It had been especially cold over the last few days and a new coat wasn’t exactly going to buy itself.

 

Angie had left the radio on, letting Ella Fitzgerald’s voice fill the automat and make the vinyl booths feel a little less lonely as she worked. After a few minutes, she found herself singing along and as Ella gave way to Billie Holiday, Angie was almost enjoying herself for the first time in a week.

 

Or at least she was until she spotted a slip of paper peeking out from behind the sugar dispenser on the counter.

 

At first, she was fully prepared to just crumple it up and dump it in the trash without even reading it, but her natural curiosity got the best of her. She unfolded the note and spread it out on the countertop so she could read it.

 

_I have no idea what happened between you two and frankly I don’t really care, but Peg misses you something awful and I hate to see her so upset, but she won’t do anything about it. There’s a film playing now. I don’t know what it’s called, but Rita Hayworth’s starring in it. Do us both a favor and maybe go see it with her and make up?_

If Angie had been confused by the first mysterious note, this one made her head spin.

 

The handwriting and tone were completely different from the first one, but Angie was still reasonably sure it was written by a man. She tried to remember if she had seen anyone noteworthy eating at that spot during the day, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember.

 

Whoever had written it, though, knew Peggy and knew that _something_ had happened between them. Apparently he also knew that Peggy was just as upset about it as Angie.

 

Good. Served her right for kissing Angie and then not saying a word about it. Granted, Angie hadn’t exactly given her much of an opportunity, but still.

 

Angie’s smug superiority didn’t last long, though. She reread the note and felt a tug in the pit of her stomach. Peggy wasn’t just upset; she missed Angie. And if Angie was being completely honest with herself, she really missed Peggy too.

 

She crumpled the note up and shoved it in her pocket. It only took her a few more minutes to finish cleaning up and she helped herself to a chocolate chip muffin as she walked out. She flicked off the radio and the lights and hurried out into the cold evening air.

 

Now all she had to do was get home before she lost what little courage she had.

 

* * *

 

 

Angie couldn’t hear any noise coming from Peggy’s apartment and there was no light coming from underneath the door, which meant that Peggy either wasn’t home or was already asleep. Either way, Angie could feel her bravery evaporating by the second and she was sure it would all be gone by morning.

 

She turned away from Peggy’s door and was about to go back to her own room when she heard the all-too-familiar clicking of heels on the stairs. Before Angie could decide what to do, Peggy had already rounded the corner with her laundry bag slung over her shoulder and a scowl on her face. When she saw Angie, though, she stopped dead in her tracks and her expression became unreadable.

 

“Hey, English,” Angie said. She gave Peggy a hesitant half-smile and ground the toe of her shoe against the floor.

 

“Hi,” Peggy replied. She shifted the strap of her bag. “The dumbwaiter’s not working. I was just bringing my laundry up.”

 

Peggy was good at lying, that much Angie knew, but that didn’t mean she didn’t see the hint of a flush creeping up Peggy’s neck or the way her brown eyes weren’t quite meeting Angie’s.

 

“Did you need something?” Peggy asked.

 

“Oh yeah, right.” Angie shook her head to clear it. “I heard there’s a new Rita Hayworth film playing and I wanted to go see it, but it’s no fun going to the movies alone, so I thought I’d ask if you wanted to come with me?”

 

Peggy’s expression slipped for a moment as her lips twitched, but she caught herself.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t think that—“

 

“Oh come on, Peg, just come with me? It’s the movies. We don’t have to talk or anything; we’ll just be two friends going to the theater.  I don’t want to go alone and I’d much rather go with you than Sarah.”

 

There was a long, agonizing minute where neither of them said anything and Angie was pretty sure Peggy could hear her heart beating from the other end of the hall.

 

Then Peggy tilted her head to the side and gave Angie a tiny smile.

 

“I think I’d like that.”

 

“Great! How does tomorrow night sound? If you can some to the automat around the end of my shift then we can have eat and go straight to the theater.”

 

“That sounds lovely. Tomorrow evening then say around five o’clock?”

 

“It’s a date,” Angie said. “Or, not a date. A plan. It’s good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Angie unlocked her door and ducked into her own apartment, slamming the door behind her before Peggy could say anything else. She leaned against the door and waited until she heard Peggy continue on to her own door before letting out a sigh and collapsing onto the bed.

 

She didn’t even bother changing out of her clothes before she fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

If someone had asked Angie anything about the plot of the movie, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to answer. It was more than a little difficult to focus on the screen when Peggy was sitting mere inches away from her and watching the screen with such rapt attention that Angie probably could have started a fire in front of her and still been ignored.

 

Angie wasn’t complaining, though. Quite the opposite in fact.

 

Dinner at the automat had been hurried and Angie had still technically been on duty, so she wasn’t even able to really talk to Peggy until they got outside. The walk to the theater was short and it was bitterly cold for early April, so there wasn’t much talking done. For the first half hour of the film Angie could practically feel the tension in the air and judging by Peggy’s stiff posture, the feeling was mutual.

 

After a little while, Peggy had relaxed into her seat, but Angie was still having trouble focusing on the screen. Her left arm was resting casually on the armrest and she was watching Peggy out of the corner of her eye. Peggy still didn’t notice, but suddenly she moved her right arm and set it on the armrest so that it was just barely touching Angie’s.

 

Angie pulled her own arm away and dropped it into her lap. She didn’t turn at all, but she could see Peggy’s arm slowly fall away. Angie finally chanced a glance at Peggy’s face, but there was nothing.

 

Angie pressed her back against the seat and tried to focus on the movie, but she had already missed too much and it wasn’t making sense.

 

She set her arm back on the armrest and after another long moment, Peggy joined her. They didn’t touch, but Angie could practically feel the sparks crackling in the air between them.

 

This time she didn’t pull her hand away.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time the movie was over, it was raining and Angie and Peggy stood in the lobby for a long minute trying to work up the courage to go outside.

 

“If we don’t leave now, we’re never going to make curfew,” Peggy said.

 

“Yeah, but it looks cold out and I didn’t think to bring my better coat,” Angie protested, wrapping her arms around her torso and pouted.

 

Peggy sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “Oh come on.” She shrugged right arm out of her own coat and held it out to Angie.

 

“Peg, what are you--?”

 

“I don’t particularly feel like getting chewed out by Ms. Fry tonight and I’m not going to just leave you here alone, so come on. We’ll share my coat.”

 

Angie looked down to hide the blush on her cheeks and moved closer to Peggy. She pushed her arm into the empty sleeve and twisted herself so she and Peggy could fit together in the tiny amount of space that the coat allowed.

 

“Are you comfortable?” Peggy asked, craning her neck slightly so she could Angie’s face. Angie nodded. “Good. Then let’s go.”

 

Peggy pushed open the theater door and they were met with a blast of icy air that stole the breath from their lungs. Angie squealed and pressed her body a little closer to Peggy’s to keep warm. Peggy either didn’t notice or didn’t mind as she strode out the door, setting a quick enough pace that Angie had to trot to keep up.

 

They walked in silence for a few minutes, tiny balls of ice swirling in front of their faces. The wind tossed their hair around and Angie spluttered as a particularly large chunk of Peggy’s hair hit her in the face.

 

“Are you all right?” Peggy asked, biting back at laugh.

 

“Great,” Angie replied.

 

“Good.”

 

Peggy suddenly stopped walking and Angie was jerked back. She turned and looked back at Peggy.

 

“Everything okay, English?”

 

“I…I don’t know,” Peggy said.

 

There wasn’t a lot of room left between them in the coat, but Angie maneuvered her free arm around so that she could press her hand against the small of Peggy’s back.

 

“Is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?”

 

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean…Angie, we need to talk about what happened. The kiss the other night, I—“

 

“Let’s not,” Angie said, pulling her hand away a little too quickly. “Talk, I mean. I don’t want to. We were both drunk and it didn’t mean anything and I just…I don’t want to talk about it right now, you know?”

 

“Okay.” Peggy looked down at the ground and started walking again, slower this time.

 

They walked in silence for another minute or so before Angie casually bumped her hip against Peggy’s.

 

“So I meant to tell you. That rude guy was back in the automat today.”

 

“Oh really?” Peggy asked, quirking a brow.

 

“Yeah. Except today he had a gal with him.”

 

“You’re joking,” Peggy said with an overdramatic gasp.

 

“Nope. He had his arm around her when they walked in and I saw them kissing in the booth, but this is the strange part. She had a wedding ring on!”

 

“Why is that special?”

 

“Because he doesn’t have a ring which means they’re not married to each other which means she’s having an affair with him! I think he knew I noticed because he actually left me a pretty good tip, but still.”

 

Peggy made a noise between a snort and a giggle. Angie wasn’t sure what to do, but then Peggy was laughing. She stopped walking again and tipped her head back and _laughed._ It was clear and warm and apparently contagious. Angie found herself smiling and then suddenly she was laughing too.

 

They stood there laughing in the hail for what felt like an eternity, but finally Peggy glanced down at her watch.

 

“We’ve only got ten minutes before curfew,” she said. “We should get moving.”

 

“Hey, you’re the one that stopped,” Angie said. “Lead the way, English.”

 

They hurried back to the Griffith, dodging the tiny icy bullets swirling all around them. As they walked, Angie kept talking, relaying all the stories of customers and coworkers that she had held inside all week. Peggy laughed and commented as she talked, matching Angie stories with some of her own. By the time they arrived at the Griffith, all the awkwardness and tension had disappeared and it was like nothing had changed.

 

They pushed open the doors and stepped into the lobby accompanied by a flurry of hail and a gust of cold wind. Ms. Fry was sitting at her desk and she glared at them over the tops of her glasses, but she didn’t say anything.

 

Angie pulled her arm out of Peggy’s coat and led the way upstairs to their floor. When they reached Angie’s door, Peggy smiled.

 

“Well, Angie, thank you for a wonderful evening. Will I see you at breakfast tomorrow?”

 

“You bet,” Angie said.

 

“Well then I think it’s best that we both head to bed. Good night.”

 

“G’night, English.”

 

Peggy nodded quickly and walked to her own door. Angie slipped into her room, tossed her coat on her vanity stool, and leaned against the wall.

 

For what felt like the first time in a week, she smiled.

 

* * *

 

                 

Angie almost hadn’t realized how much she had missed Peggy’s daily visits to the automat. Even when she was too busy to do much more than set on the table, it was nice to see Peggy smile at her again and Angie went back to looking forward to going to Peggy’s apartment after her shift and comparing their days.

 

The incident, of course, was never brought up, which was fine by Angie. She had never been able to salvage a friendship after a mistake like that before and she didn’t want to risk tipping the delicate balance they had going by bringing it up.

 

After a few days, she could almost pretend that it hadn’t happened at all.

 

Then she pulled another closing shift.

 

The cold snap had finally broken and Angie hummed to herself as she worked. A month ago she would have cleaned as quickly as possible so that she could get home early, but now she almost found herself looking forward to the peace and quiet that came after closing time.

 

She was almost finished with the tables when something caught her eye. There was a folded napkin peeking out from between a pair of salt and pepper shakers. Angie didn’t even stop her song as she reached for it and tucked it into her pocket. She was in a good mood and she saw no reason to ruin it just then.

 

The second note was tucked into the door of the pastry case and Angie would have missed it had she not been wiping fingerprints off the glass. This one, too, got folded and slipped into her pocket. It was a warm spring night and Angie was in no mood to bring herself down.

 

It didn’t take her long to finish and lock up and the walk back to the Griffith passed quickly. By the time she got back to her room, though, she had managed to forget about the notes.

 

Or at least she had until she took off her dress and felt folded papers in the pocket.

 

Angie pulled the notes out and set them on her vanity as she finished changing. They sat there silently mocking her as she put on her nightgown and took off her makeup. She grabbed them and just held them for a minute. She sat down on her bed as the possibilities began racing through her head.

 

Maybe these notes weren’t for her. Maybe one of the guys wanted to thank her for making up with Peggy. Maybe they were going to try to offer her more advice about things that Peggy liked. Maybe they knew she and Peggy and kissed. After all, at least one of the two guys knew that she was head over heels. There were a million different scenarios and Angie wasn’t sure any of them were good.

 

Her hands were shaking as she unfolded the notes and flattened them out on her quilt.

 

Each note was in a different handwriting, but they were both clearly written by the same two men as the previous notes. One of them—the one in the same loopy handwriting that had first started the whole mess—was longer. Angie decided to start with that one. Better to get the bulk of it out of the way before she lost her courage and just threw both of them away.

_I must say I was very pleasantly surprised to hear that you and Miss Carter are on good terms again. She seems much happier and I do hope it continues. She very much enjoys your company from what I’ve seen. As a note, her birthday happens to be tomorrow and I don’t think she expects anyone to know. You may do with that information what you will._

Angie scraped her teeth against her lip as she tried to decide what to think. This was the guy that knew she liked Peggy. He was the one that gave her the pie advice which had inadvertently led to what Angie was pretty sure was the biggest mistake of her life. She didn’t know what to make of the note, so she set it aside and turned her attention to the second one.

 

This one was in the scratchy handwriting of the man who had told her about the movie. Angie didn’t know who he was, but she was pretty sure she liked him better than the other guy.

 

_Peg’s birthday’s coming up tomorrow and if I know her, she hasn’t said a word about it. She deserves the best and she really seems to like you. By the way, thanks for making her smile again._

Yeah, Angie definitely liked him more.

 

She stashed both notes in her vanity drawer and crawled into bed. As she fell asleep, there were exactly three thoughts running through her head:

  1. There were two men leaving notes for her that could theoretically be read by anyone who found them
  2. These men were strangely preoccupied with her relationship with Peggy
  3. Tomorrow was Peggy’s birthday and Angie was pretty sure she knew exactly what to do.



 

* * *

 

 

Angie didn’t really consider herself a morning person, but the next day, she was up almost a full hour before her alarm clock went off at seven.

 

It didn’t really do her much good, though, as she spent the better part of that extra hour tearing apart her room trying to find the recipe book her mother had given her when she moved out. She hadn’t touched the thing in almost two years, but she was pretty sure she hadn’t gotten rid of it.

 

Sure enough, after forty-five minutes of fruitless searching, she found it stuck in the space between her bookshelf and the wall. By then she had just enough time left to shower and get dressed before going down to breakfast.

 

All through the meal, she had to practically bite her lip to keep from spilling her secret to Peggy. At one point, Peggy asked her if everything was alright and though Angie could feel the words dancing at the tip of her tongue, she kept quiet and nodded. Peggy raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.

 

After breakfast, most of the other girls left for work or to run errands, so Angie had the communal kitchen all to herself. She grabbed her recipe book from her room and opened it to the recipe she needed. Just like the notes had predicted, Peggy hadn’t said a word about it being her birthday, but Angie wasn’t about to wait for an invitation.

 

As she slid the pan into the oven, she felt herself smiling.

 

She was going to give Peggy a good birthday if it killed her.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy didn’t get home at her usual time.

 

Angie had spent most of her morning in the kitchen making the biggest, sweetest chocolate cake she had ever made and once it cooled, she had spent another solid hour frosting it and decorating it. It read _Happy Birthday_ in red icing and there were little icing roses with delicate green leaves all around the top. That was probably the most effort she had ever put into making something and she’d be damned if she wouldn’t get to show it off.

 

By five o’clock, she was on edge. Peggy was due home any minute now and Angie was pacing the length of her room to calm her nerves.

 

When six o’clock rolled around, she briefly debated skipping dinner in case Peggy came back, but then her stomach growled and reminded her that she hadn’t eaten anything except cake batter and chocolate frosting since breakfast. She conceded defeat and headed downstairs to get food. It wasn’t hard to sneak it past Ms. Fry and bring it up to her room.

 

She sat on her vanity stool and ate quickly, all the while listening for Peggy’s footsteps.

 

Come nine o’clock, Angie was so nervous that all she could do was sit on her bed and stare at the clock. What if something had happened to Peggy? Or worse, what if she had birthday plans with someone else? Someone who wasn’t Angie?

 

Just as Angie was starting to really get worried, she heard the click of heels on the stairs.

 

She jumped up and grabbed the cake and the present she had remembered last minute—a copy of the first Nancy Drew book, one of Angie’s personal favorites—and headed out into the hall.

 

“Hey, English. Happy…oh my God!”

 

As Peggy rounded the corner, Angie almost dropped the cake in shock. Peggy was limping and there was blood on her stockings and a spectacular bruise forming around her right eye.

 

“What happened?!” Angie demanded. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine, I’m all right,” Peggy insisted, waving her hand dismissively and focusing instead on the cake. “You made me a birthday cake? Oh, Angie, that’s so sweet.”

 

“Peg, forget the cake. You’re covered in blood!”

 

“Most of it isn’t mine and besides, I’m not bleeding anymore.”

 

“Oh _that’s_ reassuring,” Angie snapped. “What did you—“

 

Angie was cut off suddenly by the sound of Ms. Fry’s footsteps coming upstairs. Peggy limped to her own door and unlocked it, holding it open for Angie.

 

“This conversation would probably be much better held inside where our dear landlady can’t ask any questions, don’t you think?”

 

“Sure. Fine.” Angie adjusted her grip on the cake platter and ducked through the open door. Peggy followed and locked the door behind them before practically collapsing on her bed.

 

Angie set the cake and the wrapped book on Peggy’s bureau and turned around with her hands on her hips. “What the hell happened to you?” she demanded.

 

“Nothing. It was just a fight and I—“

 

“Was it a guy? Did some guy do this to you?”

 

“Well technically yes, but I promise you it’s not what you think.”

 

“Then tell me what it is ‘cause I’m thinking of about a dozen different things and none of them are good.”

 

“First you have to tell me how you knew it was my birthday,” Peggy said. “I’m flattered, but I know I never told you when it was.”

 

“Oh no. You’re not getting out of this one, English. You first.”

 

“Fine.” Peggy pulled her skirt up around her thighs and started pulling off her bloodstained stocking.

 

“Um, Peggy?”

 

“You wanted to know what happened, didn’t you?” Peggy asked. Angie didn’t say anything else and Peggy went back to rolling the stocking down her leg. When she got past her knee, she stopped and gestured at a freshly-stitched gash on her thigh. “The man had a switchblade and he got my leg, but that was the worst of it. My eye will heal in a few days and—“

 

“You were in a knife fight,” Angie said. She sounded more exasperated than angry, but she looked like she was ready to burst into tears.

 

“Yes,” Peggy said. “Your turn.”

 

Angie didn’t say anything. She just opened the door and walked out into the hallway, not even bothering to take the cake with her.

 

Peggy pulled her stocking back up and fixed her skirt, but just as she was about to get up, Angie came back with a napkin and a small piece of paper in her hand.

 

“Here,” she said practically throwing them at Peggy. “That’s how I knew today was your birthday. These guys have been leaving notes at the diner, but I got rid of the others. Now tell me why the hell you were in a knife fight on your birthday!”

 

Peggy picked up the notes and furrowed her brows.

 

“What?” Angie asked. “Is something wrong?”

 

“I know this handwriting,” Peggy said. “My pocketbook is hanging next to the door. Do you think you could bring it to me?” Angie did as she was asked and Peggy pulled a file folder out of the bag. She flipped it open and set Angie’s notes next to it. “Those absolute wankers,” she muttered.

 

Angie narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Who are you talking about?”

 

“The men who were leaving you notes, I know them. Howard Stark and Edwin Jarvis. They’re…colleagues in a sense.”

 

“You’re telling me _the_ Howard Stark knows you well enough to leave messages to me about you?” Angie asked. “No way.” She crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to Peggy. The dip in the mattress made Peggy wince as her injured leg shifted and Angie started to get back.

 

“No, don’t. It’s fine. Sit.”

 

Angie sat down, slowly this time, and leaned over Peggy’s shoulder. Sure enough, the scratchy handwriting matched the notes scribbled haphazardly around the page. “No kiddin’,” Angie breathed.

 

“And that’s Mr. Jarvis’ handwriting,” Peggy said, pointing to a section of loopy handwriting on the inside of the folder. “I believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting him a few times.” Angie couldn’t read what it said from her angle, but there was no doubt it was a match.

 

Angie stood back up and started pacing in front of Peggy’s bureau. “All right, so that that’s cleared up, maybe we should get back to talking about why and how you got in a knife fight on your birthday, hmm?” she asked in a tone that reminded her far too much of her mother.

 

Apparently that was a good thing, as Peggy lowered her eyes sheepishly and absently twisted her watch around her wrist.

 

“Well you see, I don’t actually work at the phone company.”

 

“There’s a shock,” Angie quipped, pausing in her pacing only long enough to flick a piece of lint off her skirt.

 

“Yes, well, I work for a secret government organization and there’s not much I can tell you that isn’t classified, but I was on an assignment tonight and it went a little worse than I had anticipated, but I’ll be all right.”

 

“You’re a spy,” Angie said. She could feel her emotions bubbling under the surface. She didn’t care about the notes or the cake or even the fact that Peggy had lied to her. She didn’t know what she cared about anymore. Her blood was running hot and she had no idea what she was even feeling

 

“For all intents and purposes, yes,” Peggy said, finally meeting Angie’s eyes.

 

“Well then I guess this won’t be very impressive to you then,” Angie snapped. She picked up the wrapped book and threw it in Peggy’s lap, not even caring about the hiss of pain that Peggy gave when it hit her thigh.

 

Peggy, for her part, didn’t say anything. She just peeled the paper off the book and when she saw what it was, her lips twitched.

 

“What are you so happy about?!” Angie demanded. “You’ve been lying to me for months and I had to find out when you come home beat all to hell on your birthday and—“

 

“To be fair, you weren’t to know it was my birthday,” Peggy interjected. “I had no idea Howard and Mr. Jarvis where leaving those notes and if I had known you were going to see me I would have at least cleaned up a little first.”

 

“That’s not the point!” Angie screamed. Her face was red and all she could feel was anger coursing through her veins. She didn’t even care if anyone heard her screaming. All she wanted to do was get it all out.

 

“Then what is the point exactly?” Peggy asked.

 

“The point is that you kissed me and we didn’t talk about it!” Angie was pretty sure she was crying. Her vision was blurred and she could feel hot tears flowing down her already-heated cheeks.

 

Peggy was silent for a moment.

 

“You said you didn’t want to talk about it,” she said quietly.

 

“Yeah, because that’s what people say when they’re having a good time and they don’t want to talk about things at that moment in time. It doesn’t mean we never talk about it because it was a kiss and we need to talk about something like that!”

 

Peggy got up from the bed with a little effort and placed a hand gently on Angie’s shoulder. “You want to talk? Let’s talk. But first let’s sit down.”

 

Angie had stopped crying, but she could feel her hands shaking as she followed Peggy to the bed and sat down. Peggy used her thumb to wipe away a stray tear from Angie’s cheek and met her eyes.

 

“You kissed me,” Angie said quietly. She clasped her hands and dropped them in her lap to stop them from shaking.

 

Peggy blushed and looked down at her own hands. “I did.”

 

“Did you mean it?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Did you really want to kiss me or were you drunk.”

 

“Oh please,” Peggy snorted. “It takes a bit more than half a bottle of schnapps to get me drunk.”

 

“Then you did mean it.”

 

Peggy was silent, Angie’s words hanging thick in the air between them.

 

“Yes,” Peggy whispered. “I suppose I did.” She looked pointedly down at her skirt and started picking at a bit of chipped nail polish on her finger.

 

“Good,” Angie said.

 

“Good?” Peggy lifted her head and her expression was more than a little surprised.

 

Angie nodded. “Good. Because that means that I can do this.” She surged forward and pressed her lips against Peggy’s. Unlike the first time, Angie could taste lipstick and salty tears and Peggy’s lips were a bit dry, but it was better than Angie could have ever imagined.

 

When they separated, Peggy was opening and closing her mouth like a fish. “Angie, that was...”

 

“Amazing,” Angie breathed.

 

“Yes, but I had no idea that you…liked women,” Peggy said. The pink blush was creeping up her cheeks again. Angie found herself almost becoming fond of it.

 

Angie snorted. “Are you kiddin’ me? When I told Gloria and Carol, they said they saw it coming from a mile away. You know, English, for a spy you’re not all that good at picking up on hints.”

 

“I—“

 

“Relax,” Angie said. “But if we’re being honest, I didn’t think you would swing this way if you know what I mean.”

 

“I’ve, um, actually been with both men and women before,” Peggy stammered.

 

It was official. Peggy being flustered was the cutest thing Angie had ever seen.

 

“Good to know,” Angie said as she stood up. “So now we’ve both kissed each other and I don’t feel like screaming anymore, so I think this was a pretty good talk.”

 

“So what does this mean for us?” Peggy asked. “Are you still angry at me? Are we—“

 

Angie leaned down and kissed Peggy’s forehead, being careful to avoid the bruised area. “Does that answer your question?”

 

Peggy was speechless, but she nodded and Angie giggled as she walked over to the bureau.

 

“It’s still your birthday and I worked hard on this cake, so what do you say we try it?” she asked.

 

“Sounds lovely,” Peggy replied. She picked up the book again and flipped it over. “And I do appreciate the gift, too. I always wanted to read these books, but I never got the time.”

 

“They’re my favorites,” Angie said. “But I bet the stuff you’ve seen makes those stories look like child’s play.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Hey, English? I forgot forks and a knife. Do you want me to go down to the kitchen and—“

 

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Peggy said. She set the book down on the quilt. “We’ve kissed twice now. I’m pretty sure it won’t be the end of the world to eat with our hands.”

 

“Sounds good to me.” Angie swiped at her dried tear tracks with the back of her hand before picking up the cake and carrying it over to the bed. She set it down on the quilt between them and sat down.

 

As they started to eat, there were three things on Angie’s mind.

  1. She was pretty sure this was the best chocolate cake she had ever made in her life.
  2. She and Peggy were officially more than friends.
  3. Peggy’s lips would probably taste really good when smeared with chocolate frosting.



 

Angie leaned forward and kissed Peggy around a mouthful of cake. Angie had to congratulate her brain for one thing: kisses were always sweet when they came from Peggy, but they were even sweeter with frosting.


End file.
